


Vermilion

by Naughty_Yorick



Series: The Alphabet Game [23]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Monster of the Week, Vampires, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27423811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: The fresh blood against Geralt’s pale hands looked unnaturally red. Too bright, too vivid, like stage blood. Stage blood was never so warm, though.Geralt and Jaskier have a run-in with a vampire.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Alphabet Game [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983026
Comments: 22
Kudos: 196





	Vermilion

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I took each letter, plugged it into a random word generator and wrote a fic based on whichever word it gave me. This letter is "V", and the word is "vermillion"! See more of my Alphabet Challenge on my tumblr, [here!](https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/post/632799468062916608/alphabet-game-master-post)

Before they’d entered the hall, Geralt had commented on the brightness of Jaskier’s doublet. It was a shocking hue - far more vibrant than any of the other guests milling around them - and he stood out from the pack of greens and browns like an exotic bird. It shouldn’t have suited him - that vivid red shouldn’t have suited _anyone_ , and yet…

“You’ll certainly stand out,” Geralt had said, “it suits you.”

And Jaskier had flushed, the blood rushing to his ears.

Geralt hadn’t meant that the colour complemented his complexion or his eyes or any such saccharine nonsense. The doublet was loud, bold, unmissable. It drew the eye and held it there. You couldn’t look away.

It suited him.

~

The fresh blood against Geralt’s pale hands looked unnaturally red. Too bright, too vivid, like stage blood.

Stage blood was never so warm, though.

~

“Pass me the Vermilion,” Geralt said, leaning over the little bubbling mixture above the fire.

Jaskier dug through Geralt’s alchemy pack, searching. “What does it look like?”

“Little crystals, almost dust. In a vial with a blue wax topper.”

Jaskier pulled the vial of orange crystals from the pack with a flourish.

“This?” He said, giving it a little shake.

“That’s the one.”

Jaskier tossed it to him, and Geralt pulled off the wax and tipped the whole thing into the mix. The vampire oil bubbled thickly at him.

“It’s not even red.”

He looked up to see Jaskier frowning at him. “What?”

“It’s orange,” he said, with all the outrage of a man with an education from the Oxenfurt Academy of the Arts. “Vermilion is red. Bright red.”

Geralt shrugged. “As long as it kills vampires,” he said, “I don’t care.”

~

A goblet of Fiorano, dark and sweet-smelling, had been spilled across the cream tablecloth, the liquid slowly staining the linen, ruining the intricate designs, the golden threads. It had been nearly full when it tumbled, and the rivulets of wine spread like fingers across the table before drip, drip, dripping to the floor, mingling with the hot blood on the tiles.

~

Geralt thought again about how much Jaskier looked like an exotic bird as he glided about the dancefloor. He’d not been employed to perform, this evening - he was there to assist Geralt, as if frolicking about with the pretty woman who’d attached herself to him that night was helping him see out his contract. Jaskier’s hand made its way to her slender waist, and Geralt felt something twist within him - something unpleasant that he tried to ignore.

Jaskier’s red doublet complemented her deep yellow gown, the two of them spinning in tightening spirals as the woman’s hands gripped Jaskier’s shoulders. Geralt ripped his gaze from them, unable to watch any longer as that unpleasant twisting sensation gnawed at him, making him feel hot and irrational. 

~

However vivid the brocade once was, it was now dulled and dark, warm and wet. Geralt held the torn doublet desperately to Jaskier’s neck. The bard smiled up at him from the floor with unfocused eyes.

A pink trickle oozed from his red-stained lips, across his cheek towards his jaw. Geralt reached up with his free hand instinctively to wipe it away - but to his horror left a streak of even brighter blood there instead, where it clung so stubbornly to his hands. Jaskier didn't even seem to notice.

“Told you I’d find her,” he mumbled.

“I should have listened,” Geralt replied, unable to turn away. 

Jaskier laughed, and blood bubbled in the corner of his mouth. "You should have," he agreed.


End file.
